


A Christmas Morning in Sussex

by notjustmom



Series: Sherlock Christmas Ficlets 2017 [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-10 22:45:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12921804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: prompt 4: snowball fight/winter sports





	A Christmas Morning in Sussex

John rubbed his eyes and looked around the unfamiliar room, then remembered, they were at Sherlock's childhood home in Sussex; they had arrived in the early hours of the morning and had all but fallen into bed knackered from the holiday traffic, and the case they had finally wrapped up before they left the city. He yawned and looked at the time on his mobile; only seven in the morning, but Sherlock's side of the bed was cold, as if he'd been up for hours. He threw on some clothes and walked down to the kitchen where Sherlock's father was at the stove making breakfast.

"Morning, John, if you're looking for Sherlock, he's out on the pond."

John looked up at him and asked in a puzzled voice, "pond?"

"Hmm, yes, it's perfectly safe, frozen solid - we should have a pair of skates in your size, if you want to join him."

"Skates? Sherlock knows how to skate?"

Sherlock's father turned from the stove and shook his head. "Never told you, then? Shouldn't be surprised - he was bullied about it as a child, then when he blew out his knee - well - he got hooked on the painkillers after the surgery - nearly killed him when he knew he would never skate again - he was so close to getting into the Olympics -" He shrugged and continued to cook in silence.

"He was that good?" John whispered.

"He's always been brilliant at whatever he dedicates his heart to. Look at how he loves you, hmm?"

John felt himself blush, then mumbled, "where is the pond?"

"Just a five minute walk. Bundle up, it's freezing, snowed a bit early this morning, just after you two got in. There will be plenty of breakfast when you two get back, go on -"

John nodded and pulled on his boots, parka and gloves, and made his way to the pond. It was indeed a frigid morning, it almost hurt to draw in breath, but there was something about being out of the city and realising there were still parts of his husband's life that remained a mystery to him. He walked for a few minutes, then stopped short as he came to the edge of a good sized pond, and saw Sherlock spinning - he had always thought him unusually graceful in his movements, but it nearly took John's breath away to see him on the ice - he was dressed all in black, except for the neon blue of his scarf, against the white of the snow, the swirl of his coat, his arms in perfect position, his dark curls flying - and then he froze abruptly, as he had spotted John watching him. John saw his shoulders drop and he skated over.

"Don't stop on my account - you -"

"Terrible form - used to be able to do it in my sleep." Sherlock's usually pale cheeks were bright pink from the cold, but his eyes twinkled at John, and a grin began to dance on his lips.

"You're beautiful."

"John."

"Please, just - one more spin?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, but nodded and skated backwards as elegantly as he did everything else, then turned and skated back towards John - and once again, he was just a blurr of darkness against the sparkling brightness of the newly fallen snow. He finally slowed down, then came to a complete stop and skated over to John once more, and sat down on a large rock to take off his skates.

"Let me?" John whispered, as he knelt in front of him, and began to untie and unlace the skates, finally removing them and then helped him slide his feet into his boots. He replaced the guards onto the blades, tied the laces together and held them in one hand as he helped Sherlock get to his feet with the other.

"I haven't skated in years - but I woke up this morning, saw you next to me, fast asleep - so damn gorgeous and you - somehow you - I - got up and got dressed as I used to, went downstairs, my father was having his tea and reading his paper. He looked up as I opened the door, skates on my shoulder and he smiled at me in a way that I haven't seen since - since the day we got married. I was always happiest on the ice until I couldn't do it anymore, but then I finally met you - my father didn't think I'd ever recover from - but when he met you the first time, he knew I'd be okay. Damn." He sighed as John wiped a tear from his cheek and kissed him lightly.

"I'm sorry -" John whispered.

"What for?" Sherlock narrowed his eyes at him.

John had put the skates down on the rock and was holding a snowball in his hand.

"You wouldn't."

"I would." John grinned and smashed the snow into Sherlock's hair, then leapt away, laughing.

"John Watson-Holmes! I'll get you -" 

"Have to catch me first!" John yelled from behind a tree, shrieking as Sherlock caught him square in the face with fistful of snow from behind, then spun him in his arms and kissed him until they were both breathless. "I love you..."

Sherlock rested his forehead against John's and whispered, in an exhausted voice, "I love you, too - Merry Christmas, John."

"Merry Christmas, Sherlock."


End file.
